


Untwisting Fate

by greygerbil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: When Michele met his soulmate Georgi at Rostelecom, he prompty left and refused to speak to him for a month. Now he wants to make an attempt.
Relationships: Michele Crispino/Georgi Popovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: YOI Rare Pair Week 2021





	Untwisting Fate

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 1 of YoI Rarepair Week 2021. The prompt was: Fate.

_“Did you ever ask Mila about him? Georgi?”_

_It had taken Michele the better part of the week to work up to this question and his heart was still thumping in his ears as he asked._

_Sara looked up in surprise._

_“Yes, sometimes. I didn’t think you wanted to know. Mila says the next time she sees you, she’s going to punch you, so I guess he isn’t taking it well.” She shook her hair of out the tight bun it had been in for practice. “He didn’t seem like the type who would.”_

_Michele kept quiet. Georgi’s heartbreak programs this season were very expressive, but he didn’t know how much that meant in this case. After all, you’d have to be a block of ice of a person to not care when your soulmate took one look at you, refused to talk to you for the rest of the day, and later blocked your number after the first text._

_Sara kept disentangling silky black strands of hair, her head angled to the side._

_“Are you really not even going to call him?” she burst out, after a moment of silence. “You could at least tell him not to get his hopes up, Mickey!”_

_“No, I don’t think I should call him,” Michele answered, stomach in knots._

_Sara must have heard something in his voice because she left her hair alone and looked at him with curiosity._

Four days after that conversation Michele checked in to a chain hotel in St. Petersburg. Russian Nationals had only finished yesterday, so he couldn’t be sure anyone training with Feltsman would even be at the rink, but by all accounts he was pretty strict and since Europeans weren’t far away, he might not let his students rest a full day. Michele’s own coach had not been enamoured with him taking this much time out of his schedule to fly to Russia so close to a big competition, either. One thing Michele had always known, however, was that there were things more important than figure skating, much as he loved it. His sister was one of them, obviously, and the fact that he had a soulmate would still follow him, one way or the other, long after age or injury took him off the ice.

He had picked a hotel that was close to the rink, since there wasn’t really anywhere else in Russia he needed to be but there. He hadn’t brought enough luggage to even leave any at the hotel, either, so he just checked briefly that his key card worked and then turned to walk out. It wouldn’t be good to wait around. He’d spent too much time worrying about this moment and it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. He had to face it head-on – had to face his soulmate.

The Sports Champion Palace was easy enough to find with the help of Google maps. Straightening his back, he pushed open the doors to the building. Nobody inside stopped him as he charged forward through the hallways. Michele’s perpetually stern expression helped him out in moments like this. Few people dared suggest he didn’t have a reason to be wherever he was

He ended up finding the hockey rink first, unable to read the Cyrillic signs on the walls, but soon enough took the right turn. As he’d hoped, Feltsman’s skaters were already back on the ice. However, he did not see Georgi among them. Mila, Yuri, and Victor were making their rounds alongside Yuuri and a few other skaters he didn’t know. He wondered what the arrangement was concerning ice-time, considering Yuuri was not a Russian skater nor Feltsman’s student; he also realised immediately that this was him desperately trying to distract himself.

With a deep breath, he stepped through the open door into the hall. Before he could speak, however, Mila threw herself into a spin and then stopped abruptly as she spotted him, her blade cutting a spray of ice from the rink.

“Really? Of all days, you had to come today?” she asked.

Michele ignored the glower she sent him. It seemed she hadn’t expected him, at least. Even though she was friends with Sara, Sara never told important secrets.

“I know you’re probably tired from Nationals,” Michele said. “I have to talk to Georgi, though.”

Only Mila and Yuri had watched it unfold, but everybody in here must have at least heard of what had happened at Rostelecom: how, after Georgi had congratulated him on his free skate and they had shared a polite handshake, a stinging sensation had taken hold of Michele, and surely of Georgi, too, and how the fire had eventually concentrated on his chest, where the soulmark had appeared. When he’d realised what had happened, Michele had wordlessly turned on his heel and walked away from Georgi. He hadn’t allowed Georgi to speak a word to him since then.

Feltsman, who’d been busy chastising Victor, had noticed him by now, too. Michele wondered if he knew what had happened. It was difficult to tell. He didn’t look pleased, but Michele had hardly ever seen the man smile.

“Michele Crispino? This is not a public rink,” Feltsman groused. “What are you doing in here?”

“I apologise, Mr. Feltsman. I have to talk to Georgi Popovich,” he repeated stubbornly.

“That’s weird. You don’t seem to have had that need before,” Victor said with a smile.

Michele bit his tongue. Georgi’s friends had a right to be suspicious. If someone had done something like this to Sara, he’d have wrung their neck with his bare hands. Their relationship was on another level, of course, but people cared about their friends, too. Squaring his shoulders and widening his stance a little, as if to defend against a blow, he looked at Mila. Since she liked Sara and had seen more of Michele than the others because of that, he might be able to convince her.

It turned out that wasn’t necessary. A door opened in the back and Georgi walked out. He was wearing his wide black coat open, a dark sweater underneath. His hair wasn’t styled, looked soft and freshly washed. He was very handsome, something Michele had noticed a lot while watching his programs those last months, snippets of the man who fate had bound to him.

Georgi saw his friends all standing still on the rink first, confusion crossing over his face.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Yuri pointed out, jabbing his thumb in the direction of Michele. “Don’t know what he wants _now_.”

Considering he still spoke English, Michele was certain Yuri very much wanted him to know what he was saying.

Georgi looked up and his face went as white as the snow that piled against the windows behind him.

“Hello,” Michele managed. “I just – wanted to talk to you.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Mila, leaning on the border of the rink, said something in Russian to Georgi as he passed by her. Georgi nodded his head, but he continued on his way.

He had to round the rink in frozen silence, all eyes on them. Michele just resisted the urge to drop his gaze. Georgi lifted a hand to say goodbye before he nodded carefully at Michele. He moved slower around him, like a sudden gesture might spook Michele and send him running again. Michele couldn’t really blame him.

Still wordless, they left the room. Michele felt the weight of the attention of Georgi’s teammates lift from his shoulders, but a different sort of pressure set in almost immediately. As long as there had been people watching them, he hadn’t had to speak. Now there was no excuse.

“I wasn’t sure you would agree to come...” he started, the sentence petering out unfinished.

“Mila just told me that I don’t actually _have_ to talk to you,” Georgi said, fidgeting with a strand of his loose hair. “But I do have to. I want to.”

Slowly, Michele nodded his head, not sure if Georgi planned to listen or chew him out.

They walked onwards until they had reached the wide glass doors and stepped out into the cold winter day that looked like evening at three in the afternoon. Michele shuddered in a gust that drove through his thin clothes.  
The grey mush under their feet was currently being covered by a new white blanket. _Snow._ The symbol that had appeared right under the dip of his collarbones was a snowflake, intricate like finely worked lace.

“You and your sister did great at Nationals. I saw your performances,” Georgi said into the silence.

“Right. Thanks. You, too.”

“Well, it’s only bronze, but with Yuri and Victor both competing...”

Georgi shrugged, staring straight ahead.

Michele and Sara had no obstacles of that magnitude in their own country. Gold at Nationals had been a sure thing for them since Michele had moved to seniors, and a couple of years later for Sara also, when her strongest competitor had retired.

That wasn’t news, though, and not what they were here to talk about. It wasn’t why he had flown to Russia unannounced.

After trying and failing to come up with a clever way to introduce the topic while they trudged through the snow, Michele finally drew in a mouthful of icy air and simply muttered: “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I heard sometimes it’s difficult between soulmates. It seems to happen every once in a while.”

Georgi sounded choked and too blank. He was staring intently into traffic, but Michele could still see that his eyes were glassy. Having watched him cry on the ice several times now during his long hours researching his soulmate, this didn’t seem to be unusual for him, but Michele had no idea what to do about it and he felt like an asshole.

“I was just surprised.”

Georgi nodded his head, apparently ready to hold on to any shred Michele was willing to give him. It wasn’t a good answer, Michele knew. Georgi couldn’t have been any less shocked. Besides, Michele had ignored him for weeks afterwards as he wrestled with the terrifying reality now etched into his skin.

“I thought I had a different soulmate.”

“Oh,” Georgi made. Now he really looked like he was going to start crying any second.

“Not like that,” Michele added hastily. “I just thought, I don’t know, if you have a twin, it makes sense you’re closest to them. We don’t have a soulmark, of course. I know that. Still!”

Michele realised he was babbling. Relatives were as good as never soulmates in the classical sense and he’d always been aware of that, but somehow he’d made himself believe that Sara and him would turn out not to have soulmates and that they were meant to stay together forever. If he had a mark, it followed that she would eventually find her soulmate, too, and Michele would have to accept that this person would have as much of a right to be in her life as he did.

He’d immediately panicked so much over the possibility of Sara’s soulmate that he’d pushed away the thought of his own. Still – he hadn’t chosen to be born a twin and had still fulfilled all the duties that, in his opinion, came with being a brother. Over too many sleepless nights, he’d slowly come to the conclusion that it would be unfair, downright cowardly to treat his soulmate as less important. They, too, were chosen for each other by destiny.

“I see,” Georgi said thoughtfully and to Michele’s relief, he didn’t seem completely confused by the idea. “She’s your twin. That’s a special bond.”

“Yes. Before I ran into you, we also had a fight at Rostelecom.”

Perhaps this was the most painful part: Georgi wasn’t really the one who had buried the idea that Sara was his soulmate; she had.

“I’m sorry,” Georgi said and sounded honest. “Did you make up?”

“Mostly. It’s – complicated.” 

Georgi nodded his head.

“But why did you come here now?”

Michele could tell that he badly tried to keep his voice level, but the hope still shone through.

“We’re soulmates,” Michele said, as much as an answer as to get it through his own head. “I need to get to know you. Er, you should get to know me, too,” he added, trying to soften his own imperative tone.

Georgi nodded his head, blinked a little too quickly for a moment to get rid of the unshed tears. There was a pale smile on his lips.

“You’ll probably have to unblock my number on your phone,” he said.

Michele winced. “I will,” he promised.

“You could have just done that, though. This is a long trip for a conversation.”

“No, it’s too important for a phone call.”

For the first time since he was with him, Georgi looked decidedly happy.

“Well, since you’re here, we should spend some time together,” he decided. “What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been to St. Petersburg before.”

In truth, he hadn’t even been sure he would get this far with Georgi.

“Nevsky Prospect is only a short walk from here,” Georgi said. “It’s a street through the old centre of St. Petersburg. They put up lights for Christmas. It looks magnificent and if you’re in St. Petersburg, you should have been there at least once, anyway.”

Michele nodded his head, grateful that Georgi had an idea at the ready, and set off after him. He’d managed the part that should have been hardest, the apology, but his heartbeat didn’t seem to want to slow down. _I’m with my soulmate._

“Are you from St. Petersburg?” he asked, just to say anything. He had no script for this, but at least he should find out a few things about Georgi if nothing else.

“No, I was born in Dudinka.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s a small town in Siberia at the Yenisey river. It looks like it comes out of a fairytale, especially in winter, but you’re not going to be figure skating professionally there. I came to St. Petersburg when I was nine, so this is also my home.” He smiled. “Are you originally from Naples?”

“Sort of. Not Naples proper. As kids, we lived in Pompei.”

“That must be so interesting,” Georgi murmured. “To know that tragedy happened all those hundreds of years ago, living with the ruins so close, and still have the same volcano looming on the horizon now like a gravestone.”

“It is,” Michele said, surprised and pleased at the answer, oddly poetic as it was. Most people just made jokes about getting buried in lava. “I still like going there. As a kid, I would imagine fighting in the amphitheatre for the honour of my sister.”

Georgi chuckled and Michele bit his tongue.

“You know how kids are,” he added, quickly.

“I enjoy stories like that,” Georgi said gravely. “I still imagine all sorts of things when I’m on the ice now. There’s always a tale in my head – it’s very important to me. I’ve never thought of being a gladiator before, though.”

Michele breathed out.

“Well, the ancient Romans never made it to Siberia. You’d be a novelty in the arena.”

“A barbarian,” Georgi pointed out.

“Yes, but the ancient Romans liked to drag those before the public in their spectacles. The amphitheatre is the oldest one built of stone that has been found so far. I’m sure it held some impressive games in its time,” Michele answered.

“Now I want to see it!” Georgi said animatedly, though his expression turned thoughtful again. “But if we are both gladiators in this story, wouldn’t we fight to the death?”

“True,” Michele admitted.

He’d never had to fit another man into his fantasies, though he’d always been only interested in men when it came to romance and sex. Gladiators, knights – he’d imagined them fighting for Sara, her watching him, hopefully with approval. If Georgi was to be his soulmate, he wanted the same from him, too.

“In this tale, I could be your champion instead,” he said carefully.

Apparently, Georgi was not going to be stopped by details such as why a man from the north of Russia ended up in possession of a gladiator in ancient Rome.

“I would like that more,” he agreed.

Michele had expected more push-back, maybe because Sara had given him nothing but that lately, or because he could never imagine himself sitting out a round at any bout. It seemed Georgi wasn’t so fully intent on playing the fighter every time. Michele suddenly remembered his free skate song, _The Sleeping Prince_. It could almost be a companion piece to Michele’s _L’homme Armé_.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that some things seemed to slot into place so easily with his soulmate, but there was a shot of adrenaline rushing through his veins like he’d just stepped on the ice for a skate at Worlds.

“Here we are.”

Michele had been so focused on Georgi he hadn’t paid any attention to his surroundings. Turning a corner out of a narrow street, they had stepped out onto a broad avenue. To both sides rose high old buildings with tall windows, columns, stone carvings. The lanterns on the sidewalk were wrapped in lights, ornate bows of them had been strung from the houses on one side of the eight-lane road to the other, and bright little lamps also sat in the windows of the shops and cascaded diwb many brick facades. With the snow coming down, the whole scene looked like a post card.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

Georgi glanced at him from the corner of his eyes.

“You look like you’re cold, though.”

Michele lifted his chin, unwilling to admit as much. The conversation had distracted him, but his stiff hands were shoved deep into his pockets and he knew he was shivering, especially now that the wind could race unhindered along the broad street. He’d managed to forget that St. Petersburg would probably be much colder than Naples, concentrated on the mess he’d made of meeting his soulmate. The thin fabric jacket he wore wasn’t meant for the harsh Russian winter.

“We can sit in a café and watch the lights from inside.”

Georgi started walking, didn’t let him argue, and Michele was happy for it. They had barely gone a few steps when the first café appeared. It was furnished with heavy wooden chairs and tables and sat sandwiched between two high-end clothing shops.

A table at the window was still free and Georgi directed them there. There was a heater under the sill and Michele gratefully pressed his hand against it after he’d draped his jacket over the back of the chair. One of the light-wreathed lanterns stood not too far away in the street, reflecting in a thousand fractured shimmering stars in the window.

“What do you want?” Georgi asked.

The menu was in Russian, but Michele’s stomach was still making too many summersaults for any experiments, anyway.

“Black coffee.”

Georgi flagged down a waiter. Michele took the moment to look at his phone for the first time since he had gotten off the plane. He had three new messages from Sara, pressing him on how far his mission had gotten.

_I found him. We’re in a café now._

He didn’t yet dare to say that unbelievably, it felt like things were going well.

As he looked up at Georgi again, he saw his hand resting against his chest, where the snowflake would be on his skin.

“Do you think it looks like that because of today?” Michele asked, the idea coming to him suddenly as he glanced out of the window.

Would it always have gone like this? Had the universe somehow known how Michele would react?

Georgi made a thoughtful noise. It seemed he knew exactly what Michele was talking about.

“That’s possible.” He smiled. “I thought at first of the ‘snow’ we make with blades on hard turns. If we weren’t both skaters, it’s unlikely we’d have met.”

“I like that better,” Michele admitted.

It wouldn’t remind him so much of how he’d acted and that they really should have done this at Rostelecom.

The waiter came and placed white porcelain cups with steaming coffee in front of them. Georgi’s was light brown with milk. He stirred it and Michele thought his fingers trembled a little, but his phone buzzed and he put his hand in his pocket before Michele could decide for sure.

“Do you have to take that?” Michele asks.

Georgi glanced at the screen.

“It’s my half-brother, Sergej.”

“Are you close?”

“Yes. My parents and other siblings... they have their own lives.” Georgi glanced down, but did not linger on the thought. “Sergej just started university in St. Petersburg when I moved here and allowed me to stay at his place. I bet he hadn’t imagined he’d be living with a nine year old at that age, but he never complained at all.”

Michele smiled. So Georgi knew what it was like to care very much for a sibling. 

“You can call him back. I’ll wait,” Michele said.

“It’s fine. I’m visiting him tonight to celebrate, anyway.”

“Your result at Nationals?”

Georgi cocked his head. “My birthday.”

Michele stared at him, feeling another stone drop into his stomach, the budding happiness he’d felt before crushed. “It’s your birthday?”

That would explain Mila’s remark – ‘today of all days’. _Goddamnit._

“I’m 28 today, yes.”

“I really can’t do anything right with you,” Michele muttered, taking a big gulp of the scalding hot coffee.

Georgi shook his head. “You’re here! That’s a big gift. I didn’t think you would come. I thought I’d be lucky if I even met you at Europeans.”

Michele frowned at his cup. It sounded bleak from Georgi’s perspective.

“I bet your brother really doesn’t like me at this point.”

“Oh – I haven’t told him yet that I met my soulmate,” Georgi said.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t know why you’d reacted this way,” Georgi said slowly. “There had to be a reason. Maybe I could still mend what went wrong. Yuri and Mila saw us, so there was nothing to do about my friends at the rink or Yakov – and Yakov did almost raise me, so I can’t claim no one who I think of as family knows.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to make it worse than it already was, though. I didn’t want people I care about to have a grudge against you in case we... well. If it does work out, in the end.”

Georgi smiled at him and Michele thought that he was really quite yielding. Hadn’t he been trying to win over his ex, who’d left him for someone else, too? He remembered hearing something like that from Sara. That was good for Michele, but he didn’t actually want to be one of the people who made it necessary for Georgi to overlook so much. He’d also learned first-hand today that he didn’t want Georgi to cry because of him, either.

With a sudden burst of courage, he grabbed Georgi’s hand and held it firmly in his own.

“I don’t want to be the kind of soulmate you have to lie to your brother about,” he said. “I want to protect you.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Sara would always tell him he was being too dramatic, and what was he even going to protect her from on an ordinary day, dogs off the leash in a park or broken skating boots?

However, Georgi went red in the face and put his other hand over Michele’s too.

“I want to be a good soulmate, too. I hope when you have trouble now, with your sister or anything else, you can come to me.”

Michele swallowed and nodded his head.

He’d have someone else next to Sara – but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

-

They sat in the café, speaking about skating, their families, their lives, until the sun had disappeared completely behind the grey blanket of clouds and it was pitch dark. When the time came for Georgi to leave, he nodded at Michele.

“You’re invited.”

“No, you are.”

“You already flew to meet me.”

“You can’t pay. It’s your birthday.”

Georgi had to accept that.

When they stepped out, Georgi still had his coat draped over his arm. He held it to Michele.

“Here. Take this. It’s a bit of a walk from here to your hotel.”

“You won’t have a jacket at all!” Michele said, scandalised by the idea.

Georgi raised his eyebrows and gave a haughty smile. “I’m from Siberia, I don’t need a jacket in hothouse places like St. Petersburg.”

Michele drew his brows together. “Let’s swap, at least,” he said.

“Alright.”

Georgi looked good in his coat, but better with Michele’s jacket solely because it was Michele’s and he pulled it tightly around himself like a hug, which Michele watched very closely while he shrugged into Georgi’s coat. It was thick and there were gloves in the pockets.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Georgi asked. “I know you have your flight at noon, but...”

“No, we will meet tomorrow,” Michele said resolutely.

Georgi took his hand again and Michele squeezed it.

He went back to his hotel and barely slept at all. He did call Sara, though, to ask against about the idea he’d introduced to her before he’d gotten on the plane.

The next morning, he was at the rink before any of the skaters, before the doors were even open. Since he was wrapped in Georgi’s coat, he didn’t mind waiting, though.

Feltsman was the first to show at seven in the morning. He narrowed his eyes at Michele, the key to the rink dangling from his finger.

“Are you here to speak to Georgi again?”

“No. I wanted to speak to you, Mr. Feltsman.”

As Feltsman approached, his gaze wandered briefly over the coat Michele wore. Apparently, he chose to read it as a good sign, since he turned the key in the lock and waved him inside.

They ended up in a small office stuffed floor to ceiling with folders and filing cabinets.

“So?” Feltsman asked, after taking off his jacket.

“I wanted to ask if there are spots open on your team. My sister and me would like to try out here.”

Feltsman sent him a long gaze.

“When I ask Georgi if that is a good idea, I’m not going to drive him from my rink, I trust?” Feltsman said. “And I _will_ ask him. I don’t have to tell you that you and your sister are talented skaters. I’ve seen you, I know your rankings. I do have some spots open, but I’m not going to blow up my existing team over new additions.”

“No, Mr. Feltsman. I think he will be fine with it. I’m going to speak to him, too.”

He hoped Georgi would be, anyway. They weren’t fighting anymore.

“I’ll consider it. I’d have to talk to your sister as well, of course, and negotiate the details with you two and the FISG.”

“When I’m back in Naples, I’ll call you right away.”

They left the office together and ran straight into a cluster of Yuri, Yuuri, Victor, and Georgi. When Georgi smiled as he saw Michele, the set of Feltsman’s shoulders suddenly seemed a little less stiff.

“What are you doing here?” Georgi asked quietly.

Feltsman ushered Yuri and Victor into the dressing rooms, snapping at them for being late, but entirely ignored Georgi in the complaint.

“I was talking to your coach. Me and Sara might switch and train here.” It was a risk and Georgi’s wide-eyed stare said nothing one way or the other what he thought of it, but Michele pushed on. “We were thinking about going to a different coach for a while now. Sara would enjoy training with Mila and the two of us can’t get to know each other when we are at two ends of Europe-”

Georgi threw his arms around Michele’s neck and hugged him before Michele could get through the rest of his carefully prepared speech. Michele froze, automatically, but realised after a moment he didn’t actually find it as uncomfortable as he usually did when people other than Sara touched him. In fact, he really liked Georgi’s firm hold on him.

Michele carefully placed a hand on Georgi’s back. He had to leave today, but he could not wait for the next time he came to St. Petersburg.


End file.
